Bald
by Fanfiction Scrutinizer
Summary: Several months prior to the tragic massacre at the Dragon Temple, a human appears seemingly out of the blue. Reluctantly, he joins the ranks of the apes.
1. Chapter 1: Straight Into Fire

Chapter 1: Straight Into Fire

* * *

Blood splattered in all directions as an axe found itself lodged within a long, scaly neck. Like it would a tree. An ape roared a cry of victory as the dragon's attacks became weaker. Desperate even. Removing the axe one more time, ducking beneath a swing of its tail, the ape planted the axe into the dragon's skull. The giant reptile tumbled to the ground, body convulsing. The ape took a leisurely stride backward, releasing a grunt of upheld satisfaction.

This was only one such fight.

The ringing of swords clanging against the temple's walls. The reverberation of steel, iron and copper slicing through scales and flesh. The whistles of elemental attacks. The cacophony of roaring shouting, screaming and cursing. The echoes of eggs shattering against the floor, the embryos crushed beneath fist and foot.

These were the only noises that had graced a young, male ape's ears. A lone, black egg clutched in his shaking, fumbling hands. His blue-grey eyes darted in all directions, watching the carnage unfold itself. Mud, grime and a whole plethora of unknown solids and liquids stuck to him like honey. A repulsive stink clinging to him.

The ape was odd, however. Considered to be bald amongst his comrades, yet not quite. The only visible patch of fur was on the top of his head, a deep horseback brown. His skin was pale, a satisfying mixture of pink and peach. The torches that lined the temple's walls shadowed his posture. He stood upright, but no tail was visible on him. A very strange, unheard of dilemma for a bipedal, especially for an ape. But this was no ape; and he was possibly the only one of his kind to ever even exist in these lands.

His pupils dilated. His heart pounded achingly in his chest, bursting for freedom. A swift glance upward made him realise that whatever action he took now, would come back to bite him in the ass in one way or another; for the Ape King himself ogled him with a stare that promised nothing except a slow, agonising, humiliating death.

Andrew O' Riley's breath hitched in his throat, taking a shaky step back, almost stumbling over his own two feet. He gripped the black egg as if his life depended on it. The Ape King stared the human down, the emerald gem in his eye-socket glowing ever brighter. His fangs bared in an everlasting snarl. The King's nostrils flared, steam rushing out with each exhalation of air. It reminded Andrew how cold a night it was.

"Gaul, listen." A piece of eggshell shattered beneath Andrew's foot as he took another step back. "You go through with this- "

"That's King Gaul to you, insect." The Ape King pointed his ornate staff toward the young human. "Give me that egg. Now." A menacing edge prevalent in his tone.

Andrew's breathing grew alacritous. "N-no." He held the egg even tighter in his grip. ' _Shit_ ' the human thought, ' _if he discovers the other eggs in my bag, I'm even more fecked._ '

A feral growl escaped Gaul's throat. "So brave. So stubborn." He barked a laugh. "Yet extremely idiotic to be standing against me and my kin. You expect these lizards to help you? After they tried to kill you numerous times on this night alone?" Gaul said, spitting a glob of saliva on the ground.

Andrew gulped audibly. No words penetrating past his lips. Visibly quivering.

"They slaughtered hundreds of our children along the course of this war." He stated, a mock expression of thought soon beginning to cement itself on his face. "What was it you said a while back?" He hummed for a moment. "Ah, yes." Gaul pointed directly at the jewel that replaced his left eye. "An eye for an eye."

Gaul brought his gaze downward, almost forlorn. Almost. "Does my cause mean nothing to you? Does our suffering at the hands of these _reptiles_ mean anything to you?!" Deep, hellacious, vitriolic huffs were let loose out of Gaul, the odour of his breath causing Andrew to wince.

Andrew remained steadfast, glaring up at Gaul, but shrank at the sight of the King reaching for the double-sided axe by his side. The human mustered up his courage, hot tears cascading down his scarred face. "Your cause stopped m-meaning anything to m-me, as soon as you stooped to their level."

The King of the Apes clenched the axe in his grip with enough force for an audible crack to resonate above the cacophony within the temple's expansive halls and corridors. The hundreds of apes in the temple grew silent. Grew still. Grew afraid. The dragons free to attack them. The apes knew what that crack meant, and unfortunately, so did Andrew.

"Yet, here you are." Gaul muttered lowly. His jewelled eye began glowing even brighter, his axe now raised above his head, preparing for a devastating swing.

Andrew felt his breath hitch in his throat once again. Eyes widening. Pupils dilating. Mind screaming at him to run, to escape this tragic scene, but he stood there. Frozen. As if his joints had locked completely. Andrew O' Riley could only gape as death herself readied to kiss him.

The human clenched his eyes shut. Darkness dominating.

* * *

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* * *

Darkness.

Dampness.

Drowsiness.

Andrew's eyes jolted open, a crusty sensation pervading them. An olive-green colour blotched his vision, causing him to repeatedly blink away the blurriness. A ticklish, cool and rough sensation rubbed along the side of his head, down to the base of his neck with a damp feeling travelling from his torso down to both of his legs. A few moments transpired and Andrew quickly realised that he was staring at grass.

' _Grass?_ ' He thought, cringing slightly. He felt his heartbeat steadily becoming faster.

Andrew O' Riley went to sit up, but groaned quietly as the heavy weight on his back reminded him that he still had his schoolbag. His muscles ached, the pain seeming to spread evenly across his entire body. Gradually, he slipped his arms out through the bag straps, tipping the weighty object off his back as it plodded roughly onto the faintly dewy grass.

Planting a hand onto the ground, the soil crumbling between his fingers, Andrew began lifting himself up by an inchmeal. He shook his head, blinking some more, blotchy patches still a nuisance. He rubbed off some of the dampness that clung to his clothes, hoping to rid of at least some of it. The air felt warm, not uncomfortably warm, just right. It gave the boy hope that he would dry off at a faster pace.

He barely had a chance to glance at his current environment before he deduced that _something_ was off. The school was situated alongside a main road that cut through town. Not a single car was to be heard nor a road to be seen. Only grass, weeds, plants, trees and some other assortments of foliage stood within his vision.

"W-what the?" He muttered, eye movements growing sporadic. His breathing grew haphazard, a small scowl beginning to form on his face. "Guys!" Andrew's mouth suddenly felt dry.

"Jack!" He called out, voice cracking somewhat.

No response.

"Darren!"

The sweet melody of a bird's song and the croak of a lonely frog were the only things to reply, along with a light, whimsical breeze.

Andrew felt his chest tighten, as if his heart was about to implode on itself. His voice started to shudder. "Where a-am I?"

Andrew couldn't even begin to decipher where he was. The very last thing he recalled was sauntering into his English class. Late at that; with his classmates sniggering quietly to themselves as he began to explain why he was late to the teacher. After a rushed explanation and some lost dignity, he went to take his seat at the back of the class, and then. . . nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Andrew furrowed his brow. ' _I remember going to school just fine. . ._ ' he thought, ' _This feels too real to be a dream._ ' Gulping, he took in a deep breath, steadying himself. Then, like a bat out of hell, a theory hit him. He remembered reading some internet articles and a few tabloids on lucid dreaming, where the person who was dreaming could feel and control anything within the dream; though it required much practice.

Andrew stretched out his arms and flexed his fingers, ignoring the small yet sudden spikes of pain emanating from his tight and knotted muscles. Several satisfying pops disturbed the instilled tranquillity of the environment around him. He winced.

"Okay, okay. . ." He mumbled quietly to himself, closing his eyes. "Just a dream." He bit his lip, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. He imagined himself floating in the air, a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, with a whole arms depot worth of guns in the arse dimension.

He opened his eyes, a hopeful glint in them.

But that hopeful glint was instantaneously replaced by a less than stellar emotion.

' _Nothing_.' Andrew O' Riley sighed bitterly. ' _Not a lucid dream, then_.'

The human surveyed his surroundings, taking in every detail. The trees basked in the sunlight, their leaves rustling and swooshing gently with the soft wind, the branches swaying soothingly along; a mesmerising sight. For whatever reason, the colour of the leaves reminded him of asparagus. The pillars of wood were spaced out a good distance between each other, allowing for some wholesome manoeuvre.

Bugs flittered and crawled along the ground, weaving between the long grass. Andrew spotted some bees pollinating a nearby batch of flowers. The blooms were a rich burgundy accentuated with a heavy garnet colour, reminiscent between a combination of a rose and a foxglove. Foxgloves, he noted, were poisonous to eat; par unfortunate and idiotic behaviour when he was but a toddler. Rushed to the hospital to get his stomach pumped.

He eyed the strange plant with caution, furthermore making a mental note to on no occasion, go near one.

The boy sucked in a lungful of oxygen. The air was crisp. Clean. Like it was untouched by pollution. It reminded him of his time strolling in the woodlands of Germany a couple of years back.

He brought his gaze upwards, and narrowed his eyes as the sun glared back at him. He placed a hand above his vision, providing much needed shade. The clear, oceanic sky was brushed with white, fluffy clouds. The pale skinned teenager swore he could distinguish the faint outline of a few stars.

Andrew now knew he was in a clearing of sorts.

In the middle of a forest.

With nowhere to go.

Panic almost set itself in, but Andrew gritted his teeth together, breathing deeply through his nose. He turned to regard his bag. It was almost as big as his upper body. Usually, his friends would remark that the bag was better off for hiking. Of course, they'd be wrong in Andrew O' Riley's eyes as the number of books one required for school was obscene.

Andrew leaned down and zipped open his bag, making sure he still had his belongings. He peeked inside, checking its contents. Books, copies, and more books; and there was also a sandwich in the lunchbox alongside a half-drunk bottle of water in there somewhere. A pencil case, too. Simply put, that was all there was to it.

He grimaced. ' _Wish I brought my phone to school. . ._ ' Andrew thought, smacking his forehead several times. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He hissed ruthlessly to himself. Now he had a basic understanding as to why his friends brought their phones to school with them.

He sighed, lowering his head dejectedly and zipped the bag closed. Andrew shuffled the bag onto his back and gazed around once again, puckering his lips.

Andrew hated the fact that he had to choose a random direction.

One strip of the forest, he noticed, had more exposure to the sun than that of the other areas.

Pouting, Andrew swept up his brown fringe and took his first, uncertain step toward the invitingly well-lit unknown.

"Here I go." He whispered weakly.

* * *

Andrew O' Riley loathed everything at that current moment in time.

He loathed that whenever he glanced up into the sky; the sun had looked like it had barely moved. It perplexed him, and he was soon beginning to develop a lot more worry with his bewildering predicament.

He loathed that his body was protesting every slight motion he made. If one were to go up to him at that current moment in time, and tell him to ' _grow the bloody-hell up and bear it_ ', they would immediately receive a sweet and efficient kick to the genitals.

Andrew stomped over soft soil and tread over rugged roots. His muscles ached even more, a tad bit stiffer than they were earlier. His back was lightly throbbing in pain, the bulk of his bag nearly forcing him down at some points.

Sluggishly, he came to a halt, taking in a few, small breaths. A mosquito-like insect buzzed over and around his head. A second passed before he harshly waved a hand out, swatting the intruding creature away.

Andrew O' Riley cringed as his stomach grumbled quietly. The rest of that sandwich sure sounded tempting right about now.

Spotting a decently sized rock at the base of nearby tree, Andrew promptly made a seat for himself. He placed his bag down, zipped it open and retrieved his lunchbox. The pale skinned human placed the plastic, see-through box on his lap before prying it open. The stench of tuna quickly dominated the serene smell of life that was prevalent within the forest.

Andrew bit into what was left of his sandwich. A slightly chewy texture, with some crunchy sliced gherkin, the taste of mayo mixed with tuna rendering him to close his eyes temporarily in harmonious bliss. He was about take another bite before a thought struck him.

Nay, a freight train of thought.

Home.

Andrew stopped chewing and stared blankly at the ground. What if he was stuck out here longer than intended? What if couldn't find a road? A house? A person? What of his parents? His little sister? His lovably-cheeky friends? They'd be worried sick and probably assume the worst.

What if he was in an entirely different country altogether?

A diminutive part of him hoped that when he'd go to sleep, he'd wake up back in school. Or, of course a much better scenario would have wake up at home, wrapped up inside silky blankets on top of his snug and cosy bed.

Morbidly, he doubted it very much.

A hardened expression plastered itself over his face. "I need to find out where I am." Andrew muttered to himself, putting the sandwich back inside the lunchbox. He gave the trees a brief once over.

' _Maybe, I should climb one, just above the canopy._ ' He thought, biting his lip. It made him pause though, recalling a troubling incident that happened a few years back. Andrew nearly shattered his elbow the last time he tried to climb a tree, whacking it against a stone as he hit the ground.

Andrew almost snarled at his own doubt. ' _No. No wimping out. I'm going to do it._ '

Putting the lunchbox back in his bag and zipping it closed, Andrew dusted himself of any crumbs as he sat up. One tree stood out to him, its branches were low-hanging and appeared sturdy enough to sustain his weight. The boy moved up to it, releasing a couple of deep breaths, mumbling a prayer to himself.

Cautiously, he placed a dainty foot down on the lowest of the branches. Andrew applied more pressure to his foot, hearing clearly the groan of the branch under his weight. He firmly grasped the trunk, practically digging his fingers in, lifting his opposite foot onto the same branch. The arm of the tree creaked this time. Andrew hopped up and down briefly to test the strain.

Luckily for him, it didn't snap. Inhaling yet another deep breath, Andrew slowly began hoisting himself up. The branches were a small distance between each other, which meant that he could climb the tree with some ease.

A few minutes passed and Andrew discerned that he was nearing the top, the arms of the tree varying along the small to medium range. He brushed some leaves away with a free hand, reaching a hand out onto the last branch he could safely support himself on. The human made a delicate turn of the head and peered between the leaves, paying mind to his foot placement.

There was a lack of leaf density.

He was _sort of_ above the canopy.

Andrew's chest swelled with pride, smiling to himself at his small victory. He grabbed a bushel of leaves, clenching them in his fist and pushed them aside. He was now staring, wide-eyed across this unknown land.

"Holy hell. . ." Andrew rested the back of his head against the trunk, mouth agape.

The forest seemed to have extended for the next three miles or so, give or take. A scarce few trees loomed over the rest, gargantuan in their nature, virtually as big as redwood trees. Grassy plains spread along after the woodland, hills like pimples on the face of the landscape. What gained Andrew's attention the most however, was the snow-capped mountain range that stood in the far-off distance, with one mountain utterly towering over the rest. The Himalayas were undoubtedly the only mountain range to rival it in terms of sheer magnitude.

Andrew swallowed, eyes drifting to his precariously placed feet. "This can't be Ireland, this definitely isn't Ireland." Keeping his rising dread at bay, he tentatively brought his vision back up, exhaling a shuddering breath. A swirl of movement not far from the edge of the forest caught his attention. "What the?" Andrew narrowed his eyes.

A flock of birds. They appeared to be to flying away from something. Dancing and lacing around it. He flinched as he witnessed a bird explode into a cloud of feathers, even from the distance he was at he could still discern the thin strands of blood that trailed them. The birds rapidly dispersed, giving Andrew a clear view of their assailant. His face went as pale as a ghost.

"Holy shit." Andrew struggled to find his voice. It was a giant _something_. The distinct shape of a bat, leathery looking wings and all. An ear-piercing shriek was let out of it. It managed to _hurt his ears_ from all the way over there. Andrew gritted his teeth, visibly shook. "Christ almighty, I'm out of here." Before he could commence his descent, something else seized his eye.

A clearing, a couple of miles from where he was situated, stood a wooden structure of sorts. No, a _multitude_ of structures. The best thing was that the constructs veered off to the left of himself with a good space between them and that _bat thing_.

' _That's probably a village_ ,' he thought, a hopeful grin slowly morphing itself onto his face. ' _They can show me the way to nearest city!_ ' Andrew wanted to fist-pump, but due to his current stance, he unfortunately could not. A massive weight did however, lift itself off his shoulders and the boy began to get excited. After the villagers guided him to a city, he could get the authorities and explain his situation and hopefully get in contact with his parents. It was a sound idea.

"I'm probably in Asia or something." Andrew rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself, beginning his decent downward. He mumbled amusingly. "Maybe that giant bat was a mythical beast around here and I was the first one to ever see it?"

As he was carefully scaling down the tree, Andrew still smiled to himself; imagining how his family and friends would react once he got home and how they would start berating him for a situation he had literally no control over. Pessimistic thoughts left the boy entirely, instead, they were replaced by ones of optimism and pleasant fortunes. Indeed, Andrew was wholly confident in getting home.

All was good.

But why did he feel a haunting uncertainty slowly creep over him?

* * *

 **My first piece of fanfiction is a 'Trapped In TV Land' story. Who would've thought it, eh? You can thank The Silent Insomniac for that dose of inspiration.**

 **It is heavily inspired by "Aimless" by The Silent Insomniac. Seriously, go have a good ole gander at it. It's great.**

 **Anyways, feel free to tell me your praises or misgivings on my piece so far, I need the feedback for my writing and storytelling to improve.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Beast of the East

Chapter 2: The Beast of the East

* * *

Andrew O' Riley did not like the way that the forest bestowed the impression that the briars, weeds and shrubs became bushier, compact and thicker the closer he seemed to get to the village. Those foxglove-rose looking plants, 'rose-gloves' he begrudgingly decided to call them, were growing in patches across his makeshift path, and in one instance they stood in his way; forcing him to snake around the wall of garnet and burgundy.

Beams of light that rained down from the sun were strewn about the forest ahead, delightfully defining the blankets of dark green moss that latched onto the scattered rocks and trees.

Andrew wasn't convinced that he was getting closer to the village. He furrowed his brows. ' _I hope I didn't stray too far. . ._ ' He licked his dry lips, slowing his sluggish pace somewhat. ' _I should be there by now, I probably did stray._ ' Andrew glared at his surroundings. ' _Gah,_ _to hell with this bloody fore-!_ '

Something dark bolted over him. The sun blotted out for a moment. A shadow. Andrew froze on the spot. ' _What the hell was that?!_ ' he thought, his breathing halting altogether.

Hours were seconds to Andrew at that moment. A cold sweat began to develop on the edge of his brow, languidly descending the side of his face.

Hours were seconds.

Silence reigned.

A loud and terrible screech snapped Andrew O' Riley out of his frozen stupor. His head shot upwards, rapidly placing his hands over his ears, wildly looking around, wide eyes to the blue brushed sky. It was that giant bat. It had to be. Wailing like a banshee.

"Oh no, shit, shit, shit!" He lowered his voice considerably. He could literally hear his heart thumping against his chest. The whole forest went quiet. The bugs stopped clicking. The birds stopped chirping. The wildlife of the woodland appearing to have died. Even the breeze, even the _damned breeze_ somehow came to a standstill.

A vice of fear clenched Andrew's heart. Slowly squeezing.

A loud thud reverberated between the trunks of the trees, the leaves rustling, the ground shaking beneath Andrew's feet. A brown rabbit dashed past him, kicking up dirt with its hind legs. A murder of black crows flapped vigorously out of the canopy, cawing madly. Andrew controlled his breathing, resorting to long, drawn out breaths through his nose.

A guttural growl echoed through the leaves. Sounding not too far yet not too close. Heavy burping sniffs rang out soon after, reminding the boy of a pig. Andrew took a tentative step forward, his light footfall causing little leaves and tiny twigs to crack gently.

' _Quietly now._ ' His eyes drifted to where the beast most likely was, and that was bit of a-ways back behind a maze of foliage. Andrew's steps began to quicken, not too fast, though. Noise was a major concern. He licked his lips. ' _I need to be out of here by yesterday._ '

Making sure his bag did not cause too much racket, Andrew tightened the straps of the clunky satchel, lowering whatever noises it made to a certain extent. He placed his hands on nearby tree trunks to retain some balance in his gradually slow pace, helping with the noise levels he produced. He winced each time he stepped on a twig or a particularly dry leaf, always turning his head back to see if the beast had moved any bit closer to his position.

Luckily, it hadn't. From what he could make out of it earlier, it didn't seem small enough to travel through the woodland by ground based means. It most likely snatched its prey by pouncing down at it from the canopy. Andrew shivered at the thought.

A cracking thud caused Andrew to stop midway into his second step. The leaves bristled violently. A chain reaction. ' _That couldn't have been more than a couple of dozen metres behind me._ ' Andrew's face turned ghostly pale.

His heart leapt into his throat. The bat thing started yelping, yelping like an afflicted dog. The various noises that seemed to escape the beast only further increased the sheer dread that scuttled up Andrew's spine.

Another loud thud echoed between the trees, the leaves shaking more aggressively than the last time. The thing was still yelping, each perpetual yap drilling into his ears. Andrew felt his eyes beginning to water, his heart racing a mile a minute. Whatever control he had of his breathing was long gone, as short, distraught breaths absconded from his nose.

Andrew wanted to run, but he knew, at the back of his head, that doing so might as well have been comparable to begging for Death to embrace him.

Suddenly, at the drop of a hat, the yelping ceased.

Silence loomed once more.

Andrew started to shiver, a lurching feeling descending upon him.

He was optimistic that the wildlife would bounce back to regularity as the tender whistles of the breeze wormed its way through the canopy.

A moment passed.

But the deathly silence splintered. The creature screeched that utterly demonic screech.

With no time to react, Andrew fell to his knees, feebly putting his hands over his flaring ears. His bag jangled as he bent forward, his forehead meeting the muddy earth. Andrew put pressure over his ears with nearly enough force to squash them completely. Something moist met with his palms. He quickly deduced that it was blood.

Blood.

His eyes widened.

The creature was still screaming, discerning it clearly behind covered ears.

Taking in a deep breath, Andrew utilised his elbows to crawl forward. Twigs poked into his skin and pebbles dug into his arms. He ignored the pain as best he could as he wriggled along on his aching joints, fresh tears falling freely down his face. He wanted to get out of there. No, he _needed_ to get out of there.

Andrew emitted a trembling grunt as he scuffled himself along the mud ridden forest floor, wishing he didn't have his bag at all, but a niggling feeling at the back of his head told him to hold on to it. He cursed soundlessly to himself.

Deciding that crawling away was going to be of no use, Andrew, staying where he was, curled himself up into a foetal position, quivering all the while.

A few seconds transpired.

The giant bat had at long last, plugged its unendurable shrieking.

Andrew's hands juddered as he gradually detached his hands from his ears. Staring at his hands; the boy flinched as he made out speckles of blood on his palms. He gulped, seizing one last look toward the monstrosity's vague direction.

Burping sniffs rang out before it growled yet again. Andrew heard clearly the great flap of its leathery wings, a giant gust of wind shaking the trees, snaking between the trunks. It appeared as if it gone off in the direction from where it had come from. The rigorous sound of its wings grew more distant as Andrew remained lying on the dirty ground, frozen.

Without delay, ostensibly at the metaphorical snap of a finger and a thumb, the fauna of the forest came back from the dead, as if a giant, hulk of a creature hadn't just unhinged the amity of nature.

The teenager, slowly but surely, climbed back up onto his two feet. Weakly wiping himself of any mud that hugged his clothes. His ears stung a bit, a slight ringing pervading them. He found himself lucky that he had listened to music quite loudly on a constant, daily basis. Andrew groaned uncomfortably as he stuck a finger in his ear, dragging out the now crusting blood.

Wiping his blood speckled fingers on his trousers, Andrew began to look around, eyes glassy without purpose. Losing a sense of direction momentarily, the human scrutinised the earth for his shoe-prints before he eventually found them. Andrew looked over his shoulder, his shoe-prints were faced in that direction, the path that he needed to take. He blinked a couple of times, clearing his eyes of any remnant tears.

"Need to get to that village. . ." He mumbled wearily. Andrew took his bag off, unzipped it and retrieved his water bottle. Taking a big swig of the precious liquid. The water had gone up in temperature and lost the cold, satisfying taste it had in the morning on his way to school. Didn't mean it was any less refreshing, however.

Putting his things back together and stationing the bag on his back, Andrew O' Riley proceeded to stumble forward to where he thought the village was located.

The encounter with that monster wriggled its way into his thoughts. Why was it where he had been minutes before? Did it know he was there? Was it after him? Why had it left after apparently doing feck-all? A whole slew of unanswerable questions assaulted Andrew's mind one after the other, eliciting him to sluggishly yet briefly close his eyes as he let loose a coarse, haggard breath.

"No, no, think of home, that's all that matters." Andrew grunted, spitting out some saliva that had built up in his mouth. "Feck this Asia or South America, or wherever in God's name I am."

Andrew yanked his arm away as the thorns of a bush with auburn flower buds caught the fabric of his shirt. He could feel himself hurting all over, cuts and small gashes littering areas of his body. His elbows and knees stung sharply.

Andrew stopped when a thought thumped him. He sighed. He had to be unquestionably assured he was advancing in the right direction. His gaze travelled up one of the nearby trees, Andrew's shoulders sagging as he sighed once more.

He put his bag down, kind of ready for yet another climb.

It was a few minutes longer than Andrew would've liked if he was being honest with himself. Climbing the tree felt more exhausting than the last time. The teenager almost plummeted off during his climb, but snappily grabbing onto a sturdy branch managed to saved his life, yet he grazed his hands in the process. Brushing a bushel of leaves out of his vision, Andrew soon spotted the village a small distance away just at the edge of the forest, five hundred to seven hundred metres he estimated.

While he was up there, Andrew also kept a watchful eye out for that creature but a small, tired smile crept onto his face. "The Beast of the East." He murmured. The beast was nowhere to be seen.

Bringing his vision back down, Andrew inspected the village from where he was situated. There were huts, some smoke wafting out of little holes in the roofs made of what looked like thatch or something similar. There was a great, roaring fire in the centre of the village, though he couldn't see any people. ' _Probably inside,_ ' he deduced.

The sun, he noted, had moved at last. The sky had transformed from a soft blue to an orange haze that reminded him of a tiger for some reason or another, indicating that it was nearing the evening time. Maybe the villagers could provide him with someplace to sleep the harsh night away? If so, they could get him to the nearest city come morn and away from that beast.

Sensing he had enough sightseeing, Andrew precariously climbed down. When his feet had finally touched the earth, Andrew moved to his bag and shuffled it onto his back. He made sure he was quick, hurried; for night was going to be descending upon him within several hours.

Andrew hastened his steps despite the outcry his body produced to such an action. Sidestepping a bunch of 'rose-gloves', brushing away intruding foliage and swatting unwanted flying insects out of his face, Andrew discerned that he was nearing the edge of the woodland. A fulfilling grin morphed itself onto his face but it was gone as soon as it had come. He groaned in frustration.

' _They won't be able to speak English, will they?_ ' He thought, halting himself mid-stride. Andrew shook that thought away. ' _No, no, no, I'm getting home. English or not._ '

He continued his strides, bag noisily clanking as he did. Andrew O' Riley was a few metres away from the woodland border. Mentally, he raucously screamed in joy. Out of the damned forest _at long bloody last_.

Andrew took a step out of the mess of trees and shrubbery behind him, letting the light of the sun shine down on his face. The village was right there, a couple of hundred metres away. The fragrance of victory was in the air and he revelled in it.

The village had a wooden wall stationed around it and was down a small slope. Andrew didn't pay any mind to it and began carefully trekking downwards through the long grass, watching his step. He didn't want to humiliate himself in front of this new culture. It'd probably be viewed as weakness, stupidity or something crazy like that.

Halfway down the flowing green hill, Andrew jumped as he had felt something impact the ground beside him with enough force to mislay his balance somewhat. He turned his head and cast his eyes downward.

It was an arrow.

* * *

 **I suppose you guys waited long enough for this chapter. Sorry for that.**

 **On another note, I am honestly very surprised with the attention this fic has received thus far! Very surprised. Thanks for it. Truly.**

 **The next chapter should be posted during the middle of the week or next Sunday. Won't keep you people waiting like the last time!**


	3. Chapter 3: Retrospect

**Chapter 3: Retrospect**

* * *

Small, almost invisible strands of smoke wafted its way up through the chimney, some gliding itself past the thick thatch that safeguarded the interior from rain, snow and other outside forces.

The cheetah sighed jadedly, hints of smoke and ash gracing her nostrils, feeling the comfortable heat of the embers in the pit bestowed on her being, watching her mother wash and scrub the dirty clothes in the water basin. Her mother was scrubbing furiously, trying to remove a stain of mud that wouldn't just get itself out.

"Damn this thing. . ." Her mother murmured.

Her ears perked up at that, a small frown on her muzzle. "Do you need help, mother?"

Her parent glanced up, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, nodding a single nod. "Can you get the brush for me, Ralka?" Her tone was a tad clipped.

Ralka grunted as she lifted herself from her sitting position, dry earth stuck beneath her claws and amidst between the pads of her paws, browning the ends of her yellow fur somewhat. The sunlight, despite being rather obscured by the smoke, had shifted, signifying that it had been a good amount of time since that wretched creature flew over their heads.

It had felt like days had passed since then.

The instant one of the guards spotted it coming from the mountains, everyone was immediately alerted and ordered to go inside. The guards remained outside, concealing themselves in the bushes and undergrowth, laying in ambush. The sound of fierce combat had never welcomed her ears though, all had been silent amongst the cheetah clan.

Piercing screams and loud yelping were the solitary details suggesting the dreadwing's presence. It wailed a safe distance away, yet Ralka could feel all the individual strands of fur on her body stand on edge. A faint shiver ran from the end of her tail to base of her neck. If that beast was still nearby, they had to endure the wait inside their homes. Despite being muffled, the wailing and shrieking still hurt the cheetah's sensitive ears.

Ralka grabbed the brush left on the waist-high table at the far end of the room, her bow and quiver of arrows leaning against the wall near it. She let her gaze linger on them for a second before looking away dejectedly, rubbing her thumb and one of three fingers against the dirty hardwood handle. Today was meant to be a good day for her archery practice.

A cough broke Ralka out of her ruminations, turning to see her mother with a minor scowl on her face. Tail twitching.

"Sorry," Ralka muttered, grimacing, not meeting her mother's tired green eyes.

Her mother's scowl softened, "You shouldn't be zoning out like that, it's not healthy."

"Just thinking is all, mother," Ralka responded, traipsing over and handing her parent the bristled brush.

Her mother was silent for a moment, her eyes travelling to the door, ears splaying back at the horrible cries of the dreadwing in the distance, fingers delicately touching the stiff bristles of the brush.

Her eyes met Ralka's, "Sometimes, it is best not to think."

Ralka didn't respond to that, her mother beginning to go back to removing the troubling stain, appearing like she was having a much easier time. Ralka could've swore she just hearkened a small purr. Pursing her lips, the cheetah opted to sit back down next to the dull embers, revelling in the warmth they emanated.

It was at that moment Ralka realised that the dreadwing had ceased its shrieks and yelps. ' _Is it gone?_ ' She thought, ears incisive for any noise suggesting it.

Silence. Even her mother looked up from her duty, the same incisiveness present.

It was then that they could make out the distinct reverberation of beating, leathery wings, edging ever closer.

The beating of wings intensified. Their pupils turned to pinpricks. Hands clenched into fists, breath hitching. The thumping grew louder and louder. Intensifying.

Ralka unconsciously sucked in a breath, shaking.

A dark shadow bolted over the sky, momentarily cutting off the sunlight stretching through the chimney. The heavy 'whaps' of the beast's wings grew further away with each passing moment, until it feigned an insignificant whisper in the breeze.

Ralka let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The sounds of movement outside swiftly became apparent, weapons clanking and jangling, bushes rustling and crackling.

"It's gone!" A voice yelled. "You can all come out!"

Ralka got up rapidly, smiling. "Finally," she breathed out, taking a quick glance at her mother, of whom held the same expression.

The young cheetah made a beeline toward her bow and arrows, picking it up with sharp movement, yet with a degree of guardianship. She trailed her finger along the engravements in the wood, following them. She made sure her two bowstrings were in her small satchel. She wrapped the belt of the quiver of arrows around her waist, getting used to the weight. A nice bundle of arrows was in there, twenty to be exact. Twenty arrows she all crafted herself over the months, but only the shafts.

Not that she'd admit that little fact to anyone, though.

Ralka placed the bow on its sling that wrapped over herself and tightened her belt just so it was comfortably hugging her waist and released a small, content breath. She sauntered over to the door, pushing it a little ways open.

"Be careful out there, Ralka, I don't want you getting a splinter," her mother's voice called from behind, a tinge of amusement laden within, yet there was some noticeable weight to it, "or that beast swooping down for you."

"I'm past my fifteenth winter," Ralka turned back to look at her, almost rolling her eyes but she instantly ceased herself. "I can take care of myself."

Her mother smiled. "I know you can," she paused, eyes speckled with unspoken concern. "But if that beast comes back-"

"Come back here immediately. I know, mother," Ralka stressed, forcing a smile.

"Good, try to come back before dusk, little cub." She beamed and gestured toward the door before immediately going back to the laundry. "I'll be out in another while."

Ralka tarried at the doorway, ears splaying back, "I'm n-not a cub," she stammered, pouting, shoving the door wide open and marching out of the flow of her mother's soft laughter.

The cheetah stopped mid-stride and drew in a deep lungful of air through her nostrils, the aromas of the nearby woodland a refreshing change from the smoky interior. The slightly soggy mud under her paws was a stark contrast to the dry dirt floor found inside her home, resulting in small, electrifying tingles to go up along her spine in addition to the coldness along her pads.

Ralka stood there, watching the clan's people making their way out of their homes and raised an eyebrow at one cheetah climbing out of the well, fur sopping wet. She blinked at that, nose crinkling. ' _Anyplace is good, I suppose_ ,' she thought.

The guards returned to their posts, weapons rigid in their hands, no doubt fearing another occurrence of the apes' presence. Ralka unconsciously brought the quiver of arrows hanging loosely from her belt just that much closer to herself, gliding a thumb over the dark leather.

The clan's people slowly dispersed, going off to their jobs, whether that was picking berries, chopping wood, gathering rocks, fishing, fetching water from the well or the river. Anything that kept them relatively close to the village and out of harm's way.

Ralka puffed her chest up and lumbered onwards, her eyes set forward. The village was quite a small one, with only around thirty or so folk within its wooden walls, a third of them guards. Ralka thought it was too many for such a small abode; the people could defend themselves better than any mole, yet the clan's chieftain, Jarsosh, always said " _the more guards, the safer everyone_ _will be._ "

He wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean Ralka had to like it.

The gate to the village was near and unlocked, a few villagers slowly making their way out, the sun casting a great looming shadow that stretched off to the right over a watchtower built of wood and fastened with rope. Four or five like it were scattered around the village. The only place where there wasn't one was at the back of the village. Why have a tower there when one can shoot transgressors with ease as they tumble idiotically down the hill?

Ralka winced as she caught sight of the guard who was on the watchtower, hands tightening into fists, and for just an instant, she stared.

' _Oh, how the Ancestors love to torment me,_ ' she creased her nose at the thought.

She sighed quietly and kept her head down low, staring at her hind paws. She hobbled along, careful as to not bump into anyone also making their way out. Taking a quick glance upward, she noticed the guard in question was observing the crowd, hand atop the pommel of his sword, his bow resting against the timber railing.

She also noticed that she was a few tail lengths away from the gate.

A few long strides are all that it would take for her.

She bit her lip, just about drawing blood.

She nearly bumped into someone, but swiftly sidestepped, muttering a quick "sorry" before moving forward, hastening ever so slightly.

She could feel the feathery breeze on her fur as it tunnelled itself through the exit.

She had made it.

Someone smacked their lips. "Well there, runt."

Ancestors damn it.

Ralka mumbled a curse under her breath, fingers twitching for her bow and arrow. Raising her head, she glared daggers up at the voice.

"Vassoud," she stated, tail swinging.

"Going out into the woods again, I take it?" Vassoud enquired, a bored expression wrapped on his face as he rested his head atop his hand.

"Yes," Ralka clipped.

The cheetah's ear twitched. "Archery practice?"

Ralka's eyes narrowed further as she nodded slowly.

"Ah, and by yourself as well, yet again?" Vassoud snorted, rolling his eyes, "Can't wait to see the day that a runt like you actually manages to pin an ape with one of your arrows," he paused, puckering his lips, "but then again, you wouldn't be good enough to barely _miss_ one of the bigger breeds, never mind actually hitting it."

A menacing growl escaped Ralka's throat, yet she didn't dare speak.

Snorting yet again, Vassoud waved her off, "Alright, off with you. Don't want you going back to your mother with that attitude."

"And in no thanks to you," Ralka huffed, thundering off to the sound of Vassoud's faint chuckling.

Ralka pulled on her yellow robes, getting a fabric flipped on itself out just under her belt, muttering obscenities and curses under her breath, and on the whims of chance, growled. Spitting on the ground and looking up for any signs of the dreadwing just to be certain it was gone. After a few moments of observing, content befell Ralka and without delay, began a good pace alongside the wall. She dragged her hand on the wall, feeling all sorts of nooks and crannies, bumps and cuts and slopes and splinters over thewood. A force of habit she couldn't bring herself out of.

She felt at ease knowing that no one would bother her for the time being while she practiced with her archery. No one to mock or ridicule her or bring her down a peg, just herself and her tools.

It was a nice feeling.

Weeds, nettles and multitudes of variously coloured plants sprouted out along the bottom of the wall giving it a much-needed vibrancy with the odd bee flying around. She kept her eyes keen for any of the purple xith flowers, as anyone with a right head should.

Approaching the bend of the wall, just before the treeline, she turned. This would lead to the back of the village, and not too far within the forest would lie her training area.

Ralka brought her vision up to the sky to see it was late afternoon. A few hours before dusk, she presumed. That was more than enough time for her practice.

Ralka stopped by the treeline, gazing in between the looming trees that sprouted out of the ground in all sorts of manners. Roots that were upturned, laying atop other roots in a lazy fashion, made all the more apparent by the dark green moss that ostensibly spread to everything it touched.

Nodding to herself, the cheetah stepped within, her hind paws squashing down on long grass that instigated a burst of tiny little flies to spring out with each sure step. A few birds sang overhead, an uplifting change from the deathly silence that the horrid dreadwing had initiated.

Sidestepping away from a bushel of xith flowers, Ralka could discern the trodden path that she always took to her little area. The path continued under fallen trees and a small stream that was used as source of water on the odd occasion. A final bushel of xith flowers was ahead and behind there lay the range.

Three dummies filled with dried grass, leaves and the fur of dead animals and patched together with fabric were placed various distances from each other, with the furthest one being over twenty-five tail lengths away, the closest one being ten tail lengths and the last being positioned betwixt the two.

Ralka stretched, popping out a few kinks in her back and flexed her fingers, stretching the claws out. She let out an unperturbed groan as the last 'pop' of her bones zipped its way out of her system. Cracking her knuckles, the cheetah made her way to the furthest target, placing a hand on the location of her last hit.

On the right shoulder of the dummy was where her arrow had hit a few days prior. She had always wanted to aim for the head yet had always missed by miles, much to her chagrin. She could hit the first target just fine right between the eyes. The second one was a touch below the dummy's jawline and the third one may have well have been shot by a first-time archer.

For a split second, she grew despondent but she quickly shook it away and masked it with a stony resolve. Biting her lip, and tasting the faint trace of dried blood from earlier, Ralka proceeded back to the front of the range, removing the bow from its sling. She held the bow with a degree of respect, appreciating the weight of it in her hands.

Ralka grabbed one of the two bowstrings out of her pocket and began fixing up the bow. A good degree of time passed her by when she finally began pulling at the string for any discrepancies; there was none to be found. Smiling to herself, the cheetah grabbed an arrow from its quiver and rested it between her fingers on her dominant hand.

The arrows were more akin to hunting arrows but the tips were narrower; her clan believed it to be more effective whilst on the hunt, but only time would tell if she could use them to their maximum potential.

Ralka intended to make the most of her little session.

Drawing the bowstring back, the arrow resting in a nice horizontal fashion; Ralka took a deep breath. Her eyes focused on the furthest target, narrowing ever so slightly. She remained stock still, the dummy was her prey ready to run at any given moment.

Closing her eyes for a heartbeat, she breathed out.

And released the arrow.

The arrow flew as silent as a bat at the dead of night. A tearing sound followed immediately by an echoing 'thunk' vibrated through the forest. It had hit the post holding up the dummy.

Ralka opened her eyes and frowned.

She had hit it just below the chin.

Mumbling to herself, she marched over and yanked the arrow out of the dummy. Tail swinging wildly.

"This is going to take me a while. . ." She groaned, placing the arrow back into the quiver.

* * *

To Ralka, the day had seemingly vanished in an instant, a few more hours she felt might've done her more justice, yet dusk was quickly approaching as the sun was creating anorange hue across the skies.

Retrieving her arrows, keeping the bowstring to the bow, Ralka got ready to go back to the village. She took her time going home, idly pondering different scenarios and what sort of battles and adventures should would get into when she eventually did battle with the apes, provided if the war even lasted that long.

The cheetah didn't take much notice of travellers gossiping and spreading rumours around the village, though she did hear the odd remark of the dragons being targeted specifically. She thought it was just a bit of word spinning to cause fright. Why would the apes target the dragons of all beings? The most dangerous beings to make an enemy of?

She knew apes were arrogant but not _that_ arrogant.

Ralka mused it quietly to herself, somethings just didn't add up. In the end, she blamed her lack knowledge on the subject. The only thing she did know was that apes were bad and everyone else was good. Simple.

Stepping out of the forest, Ralka stretched out her muscles. Preparing to walk by the wall, Ralka stopped herself. She felt something a tad off; like something weighing down on her shoulders, a weightless rummaging in the gut. Her ears splayed down slightly, her eyebrows furrowing.

The feeling was acting as if she needed to turn around.

Curling her fingers into her palms, Ralka hesitantly turned.

She gasped, eyes widening.

She dived back into the treeline and hid under a bush, watching.

Clearing a few leaves away, the cheetah watched this traveller's moves. It was oddly dressed from what she could see, a good distance between it and herself. Ralka unequipped her bow, an arrow ready in her hand. The traveller began walking attentively toward the village, minding its step as made its way down the slope.

Its face was pale, the only patch of fur visible was on atop its head, a deep brown. To a degree it repulsed her, yet it captivated her. A button nose, small eyes. Grey fabric covering its torso and more of it along his legs. She watched it for a few moments, but her observations came to abrupt halt as she bared her teeth. Its hands, as bald and as furless as they were, stuck out like a fire in the middle of the night.

She snarled lowly.

Four fingers.

Ralka cursed to herself.

Apes were the _only_ species known to exist with four fingers. She guessed that village gossip did have its merits.

Was this the rider of the dreadwing? Was it here to signal an attack? It seemed like it to her judging by the way that they both came and left from the same direction. She wasn't going to let an ape dance its way into her village, not by any measure. At least she would get to prove Vassoud that she was useful. At least somewhat.

Ralka prepared her bow, arrow at the ready. She breathed in.

Closing her eyes for a heartbeat, she breathed out.

And released the arrow.

* * *

Andrew O' Riley gawked at the arrow with abject horror; frozen and shaking like a leaf. His mouth opened and closed, seemingly trying to find words that no matter how hard he tried to formulate, would not come out. A cold lump formed in his throat.

Hearing a screech of unrestrained anger caused Andrew to snap out of his daze, whizzing his head around to the source. Another arrow sailed by him, impacting the earth just to his left.

Andrew did not say a word as he whipped around and ran for his dear life back into the forest.

Here he was hoping to find a haven to rest the night away and meet some nice people, and was now running for his life from the natives of the 'Forest of Back-Arse of Nowhere'. Not only that, but that damned bat-thing was seemingly trying to get him as well! What the in the name of all that was holy was going on!?

He wanted to be at home looking up the latest memes, snuggled up in his bed, not this!

His heart thumped achingly in his chest, his bag rattling violently on his back. He jumped over roots and bolted in-between trees. He kept his arms in front of him, feeling for any obstacles that may block his path.

The sound of the nightlife was drowned out by the jangling of his bag as it whacked off bushes, trees and tall shrubs. He could make out all degrees of insects jumping and scuttling out of his way as he barrelled forward into the darkness.

Taking a quick glance back, he could barely discern a yellowish shape dashing after him between the trees, picking up on faint but harsh mutterings all the while.

Making a sharp right, Andrew sprinted onto a rather trodden path that was burdened with those purple flowers to its sides, up to his waist in height. Ignoring the sharp burning in his chest, feeling himself get slower and slower with each passing second, his breaths becoming more laborious; Andrew strained against it.

Whipping his head around for a split moment, he could notice that his assailant had stopped, standing there like a board. A faint smile grew on his lips, he wasn't gone just yet. He continued running.

It was like he was floating out of the blue. A sensation of flight, a sensation he never felt.

It lasted for no more than a split second as Andrew collided headfirst along the ground, into the purple flowers. He started crying out lowly, beginning to wonder if a truck had hit him. Stings and sharp pricks of pain gradually developed along his hands and face, his world a daze.

It was like his skin was melting. His back numb.

He heard the crunching of grass behind him, but before he even got a chance to peep, he was pulled violently from the patch of purple flowers. A sudden yank from his bag hauled him up a bit off the ground. Andrew groaned, tears trailing down his cheeks; numb to it all.

He felt a hand grab his arm as he was roughly turned over onto his back, vision dazed. He felt himself being hauled across the ground and was carelessly propped against the base of a nearby tree. The yellowish blob put a thin brown blob back into what looked like a darker yet bigger brown blob.

Andrew opened his mouth to say something but a flash of yellow and a quick burst of pain to the side of his head silenced him immediately.

His vision was getting progressively clearer, though he began to wonder what other affects those flowers had on him.

The local vehemently shook him, speaking harshly in a language he had no clue about; though it sounded feminine. Andrew gazed lazily up at her, feeling a wetness travel down his nose.

The female voice seemed to get louder.

"I can't. . . understand you. . ." he mumbled sluggishly, head unbalanced. There was a moment of silence as his attacker stopped talking.

Andrew blinked a small number of times, his vision better off, though not by much. Shaking his head, he got a good look at the woman.

"Wha-. . ." His next few words died in his throat.

Along with how he perceived things a great many things.

Black spots on yellow fur. A dark green robe with a leather waist belt wrapped around it, holding a quiver of arrows. She had a bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. Dark green eyes, slit pupils. A mean tail lashing behind her.

Andrew wanted to scream, but he couldn't find the strength to do so. All he could do was stare with his mouth set to catching flies.

A cheetah person.

A goddamned cheetah person.

He couldn't believe his waking eyes.

The cheetah person drew her bow and readied her arrow, drew back the string and pointed it directly at his forehead. Andrew shook, the forest seeming to go silent yet again.

He sniffed. A small, despondent cry escaping his throat. Breath shaky.

At this, the cheetah's eyes grew gentle and she glanced to her feet for a second, as if she was internally debating with herself.

He could see her bite her lip, her arms and hands quivering very lightly.

After a few moments, she relented, removing the arrow uncertainly from the bowstring. Lifelessly driving it back into the quiver. Andrew looked up at her with a renewed hope, but the cheetah only glared at him. She scrutinised him for a few more moments before turning away slowly, giving one last look before returning to where she had come from.

Andrew waited for when she was out of sight to breathe a sigh of relief. He relaxed himself against the tree, sitting there, panting.

It was getting progressively darker the longer he sat there and it was dark enough now to barely see the fifth tree ahead of him. Determining it was time to get up, Andrew removed himself from the ground, albeit clumsily. He looked around for a few moments before limping in a direction that didn't lead to anywhere near that village.

He need to find a place to rest the night, anywhere he could be dry and safe.

* * *

The nightlife was in its full effect as torch bugs, crickets and bats went about their business. The moon was out, shining a very faint glow in-between the leaves of the canopy.

Huddled inside a dead tree, Andrew turned about, hugging his bag close to his chest. The top half of the tree was gone and it was hollowed out down the middle, a split going down one side that he could easily fit into. After an hour of searching the woods for anything remotely resembling safety, he began to grow desperate, and stumbled upon a dead tree in the middle of a clearing, perched on a small hill.

He didn't even have to think to realise his situation.

Sleep was the least of his worries.

* * *

 **I'm back! If you thought that this story was dead, then you were wrong! I'm just very inconsistent. I remember when I said I'd have this chapter out come Sunday, but instead I had it out four months later.**

 **I am genuinely sorry about that. But bear in mind that I will be inconsistent, but expect chapters in shorter intervals. I have no real schedule for chapter releases so bear with me here.**

 **The four-month delay thing; I'm just going to say that some bad things happened and I'll leave it at that.**


	4. Chapter 4: Lost and Found

Chapter 4: Lost and Found

Luharon pulled the axe out of the rabbit's neck, its struggles all but ceasing as its head was left dangling from skin and fur. He wiped the head of the axe of any blood and fluid off his worn, brown breeches. The ape took a big whiff of the frigid air around him before spitting a great big yellow glob of spit on the ground.

Gruffly tying the still twitching carcass of the rabbit by the hind legs onto his belt next to two other lifeless cottontails, Luharon began hopping and hobbling his way through the rocky landscape that was coated in patches of dim green grass accentuated by dewdrops and a few trees that swayed with the buoyant breeze.

The sky was grey with swirling clouds that veiled the sun on the horizon; a stark contrast to yesterday's fine weather. Nevertheless, the land was yet to experience the crisp daybreak of the morning.

The ape was adorned in armour that was a pleasant mauve. His wide shoulders that casted great big looming shadows whenever he turned his back to the sun. His shins and the top of his feet were covered relatively nicely in thick cloth with the bonus of a couple of small spikes to give what he believed was a menacing edge.

He stepped over a small crag that jutted out of the ground, hopping over a moderately large crack that looked to go down for quite a few feet and ducked under an arch of grey stone that housed one of those red gems that the dragons were particularly fond of whenever the time suited them. Luharon made note to go back to that later.

Stepping aloft onto a bulky stone, Luharon could spot the camp and the hulking form of his noble dreadwing sleeping soundly away to the resonance of the waves in the distance positioned next to the remains of the fire he put out earlier that morning, just down the slope that was littered with crags, pebbles and old tree stumps easily as wide as himself.

Walking down the slope, careful as to not tumble downward, the rocks and pebbles cracked and crunched underneath his tattered leather wrapped feet, digging up into his soles causing him to grit his teeth.

The dreadwing perked its furry ears up at the crunching hullabaloos, lifting its head and sniffing the air with its giant wet nose. As soon as its eyes contacted Luharon, it emitted a soft squeal, much like a dog, yet it was hoarser and many times more strident to the ears. The dreadwing was easily twice if not three times as big as Luharon, and he was of average height when it came to Ape standards.

Luharon wiped a hand down his face as he freed a yawn.

"How're you doing, girl?" Luharon placed a hand on the dreadwing's neck, digging his nails into her steely fur causing the giant bat to release a soft coo.

"Hungry?" he asked, enticling dangling a rabbit from his belt.

The dreadwing stood at her full height watching the ape unscrambling a rabbit from his belt and tossing it into the air. The dreadwing caught the morsel mid-flight with a snap of her jaws, gulping down the rabbit in a matter of moments. She lowered her head down below his neck, looking up at him with wide caerulean eyes.

He shook his head, "Nay, that's all you're having for now. Took me ages to find these rabbits out 'ere," the ape affirmed, tossing the rabbits into a satchel by the smoky embers of the night's fire. The dreadwing whined, splaying its ears down.

"Don't be like that," Luharon laid his hands on his hips. "Tell you what," he stated, "why don't you tell me about that lovely new smell you discovered yesterday, eh?"

The dreadwing brightened up at this, lolling its pink tongue out. Luharon whispered into his left hand; immediately followed by a faint shimmering. He situated his hand atop the dreadwing's head, moving to her side and sitting himself down.

A crack was heard from the remains of the fire though the two didn't react to it. They sat there, content with their own company. Luharon had his eyes closed, his face expressionless. The same for his dreadwing.

A few quiet moments passed away between them, the breeze in the surrounding background soothing their wits.

"A fishy smell that smelled?" He quirked his lips down, "in the middle of a forest of all places?" The dreadwing nodded her head thrice, ears flapping.

Luharon stroked her under the chin with his right hand. "It was very strong, you say?" The dreadwing yipped, salivating considerably.

"You tried going after it but you failed to see what it was?" The giant bat whined at his proclamation, lowering her head to the ground ensuing in a weak thump of her chin hitting the rocks.

"Tell you what, Tonaska," Luharon took his hand off her head, "how about we do a little bit more scouting and find the source of it, eh?"

Tonaska squealed, bouncing off the ground nearly sending the ape off his feet.

"By the Pit, calm down!" The ape bellowed, putting his arms out, swaying from side to side before eventually falling over hard on his bum just barely stopping himself from sitting on his own tail.

Tonaska chirped and went along to vigorously lick his face. Luharon grabbed her by her black horns and tried to push her away, but the bat just pushed back harder.

"Alright, stop! Stop, stop!" Luharon cried, but he just got shoved onto his back, the dreadwing happily slurping and licking his face. The ape turned his head to the side, spitting out some of the dreadwing's saliva that got its way into his mouth.

"Ugh, alright, I'm sorry for snapping at you!" The ape relented, feeling Tonaska give one last lick up the side of his face. The bat then sat on her haunches, letting Luharon sit up and wipe himself down. She tilted her head and let a high-pitched chirp.

Luharon gazed out into the sea, patting off any remainders of saliva that clung to him. He spat off to the side.

He hmphed, "Well, no stretch like dawn for the everyday brawn." Luharon shot his attention toward his mount, "Tonaska!"

The dreadwing abruptly stood straight. Ears perked, head shooting up.

"We're huntin'."

* * *

The hollow trunk of the tree hugged Andrew. His elbows squarely against the bark. His legs were numb, and his hands were doused in pins and needles. Not even a yawn escaped him as he sluggishly opened his crusty eyes.

He groaned almost immediately, rubbing his eyes to make them water. His throat was parched. His bladder was fit to explode. His muscles throbbed with a dull ache and so did his ears. To make matters worse, it was quite wet outside.

His slow and battered mind nearly failed to catch on to his predicament. Though it was too real to suggest otherwise. He was still here. This place. This unknown place.

It was disheartening.

Grabbing the bark of the tree, Andrew dragged himself out of the trunk, landing on the ground with a wet thud. He sighed, scratching his scalp. Picking himself up, Andrew flicked a fly that landed right around his unwashed hands. He found the entire situation hopeless. No phone. No modern technology for who knows how many kilometres, and cheetah people that wanted him dead for whatever reason.

He felt his bladder combusting and morphing inside him.

Andrew winced, going off to relieve himself. A big fluffy bush nearby was ripe for it.

What was his family thinking right now? He thought as he began, were they frantically looking for him? His friends were probably wondering what in the seven circles of hell were happening, seeing as they practically watched him pop and go. He was bound to be somewhere in the world. Andrew whispered a small prayer to himself, asking God for protection as finished up.

He didn't know what to do. In the middle of a forest with absolutely nowhere to go. He bit his lip, making his way back to the hollow tree. He sat down, feeling dampness rise into his trousers from the ground. He contemplated, idly twiddling his thumbs.

There was a lot to think about.

* * *

Goggles clutching his head and his hands wrapped around the reigns, Luharon allowed Tonaska to the find whatever this smell was herself. They had enough time to kill before having to report back to the Scout Chapter General. He rotated his head around, scanning the lands below. A giant thicket of forest with a few clearings and some large trees. Nothing unusual or out the ordinary, except for tufts of smoke that rose lazily a few miles away. No doubt a Cheetah village.

Reporting that would be fond to his image.

Tonaska let out a chirp. Then a series of chirps. She was excited.

Luharon grinned, "What's that girl!? We almost there?!" He shouted over the winding wind.

She made no indication that she heard him, but the intention was all too clear as she began lowering in altitude.

Andrew shot his head up. What was that? He thought, puzzled. A low series of high pitched chirps, they didn't sound like any bird he had ever heard before. Curiosity began to tickle his mind. At least there was some excitement to be found out of all of this.

New things to discover. New animals to see! That's if he ever made his way out of the bloody forest. He needed to figure out a way, without stumbling into anything with hostile intent. Andrew hoped he wouldn't have to see that bat thing again, trembling at the mere thought of it.

He picked his bag out of the tree, feeling the weight of books and the like inside. He grunted as the bag settled on his back. He scanned the clearing, looking a for safe route. His hands began to itch. He scratched them subconsciously, uncaring of possible allergies or bodily reactions.

The plan was simple: get out of the forest. The way opposite that alien village was his best bet.

Andrew was feeling a bit content with it. He'd be back home soon enough.

He blinked.

There was flapping noise above.

Wearily, he looked up.

"Aw shite," his voice cracking, eyes the size saucepans. That bat thing, heading straight for him. A series of chirps escaping it.

Breathing heavily and without a second thought, Andrew made a beeline toward the edge of the clearing. He was not getting killed. Not now. Not by that thing.

* * *

Luharon pensively regarded the clearing they were approaching, the site of battle ages past it must have been, if the husk of a holy branch of the World Oak was anything to go by. They were special trees, ones the Apes worshipped. They appeared in the face of great death and strife. Usually battles. They were believed to aid the fallen warriors by forming paths to the centre of the world, where they drank, sung and ate for eternity. The Skayar Farak, the Great Hall.

An afterlife to the those who died unwavering in battle.

The clearing would be great for a new temple when they conquered these lands. He grinned at the thought. Nearly chuckling.

That was cut short however. What was that in the clearing? Some lanky thing? Red, peachy? He squinted his eyes. It was running to the edge of the clearing or trying to run. Its massive satchel weighing it down.

Luharon growled, "Faster, Tonsaska! Faster!" He wanted to see what this thing was. A new and undiscovered creature perhaps? Or was it another vassal race of those accursed Dragons? It was time to find out.

As they got closer and closer every second, the thing glanced over it shoulder at them. Ah, so it was running from them? All the better, he thought. As it glanced, it tripped over its own two legs. Luharon would've laughed at the pitiful display had it not been for the winding effectively locking his face. It rolled onto all fours, dragging itself to forest edge.

Luharon flicked Tonsaska behind the both ears with a free hand.

The dreadwing screamed a horrible relentless and unenduring wail that brought non-Apes to their weak knees. The thing in the clearing was no exception. In fact, it was incredibly sensitive to it. Great.

With one giant flap of her wings, Tonaska slowed herself down, crashing into the clearing with fervour. Luharon unmasked his goggles and hopped of the dreadwing. Pulling out the axe out the satchel by Tonsaka's side. It gleamed menacingly in the morning light. He signalled for Tonaska to stay put and to stay quiet. He turned to look at the lanky thing, before thundering over to it with righteous zeal.

It lay there, rolling and grovelling on the ground, clutching its ears in agony, tears streaming down it face, eyes shut to the world. It looked awfully pampered by its looks. Its clothes were strange, finely knit and sown. Garish colours that did not blend into the environment all. Like an adult dragon that flew in a clear sky. Its head resembled his thumb, with a tuft of fur at the top. Pale skin that highlighted blood underneath its skin.

Luharon raised his axe, contemplating whether or not to kill the thing and bring its head back as a trophy. No doubt there were more of those things out there. It was then that he took full notice of its hands.

Four fingers and a thumb.

Like an ape's.

Was this thing an ape? It couldn't be, a sick perverted version of an ape more like. Luharon was at a loss for words.

"By Durengi's paws." He lowered his axe. What in the world was this? He looked back at Tonaska and noticed her sniffing the area, most likely where that thing was wandering around. The fish, no doubt. In fact, Luharon began to smell it too over the sound of the creature's faint whimpers.

Fish, and it was stronger in that things direction. It was unlike any fish he smelled before. Deep sea, perhaps? This far inland? He was surprised it hadn't rotted.

Tonaska was soon peering over Luharon's shoulder, gazing at the ape-thing. Hunger in her eyes. Luharon grimaced, placing the axe by his side. He supposed it was better to capture the thing than it was to kill it. He felt he owed a fellow ape that much, despite how different they looked.

However, it didn't seem to be in the mood for talking as it pierced him with eyes strident with fear that came perilously close to a feral panic.

Luharon made his choice, turning to Tonaska, whispering into his hand.

"Don't eat it," he warned with a pointed glare.

Tonaska whined, head drooping low.

* * *

The last thing that graced Andrew's addled mind of terror and despair was the encroaching monkey, rising a its boot above his head. Andrew felt know pain as his mind was sent into the land of dreams and nightmares.


End file.
